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Though we’d slept in the same bed, last night seemed like a speed bump. I’d felt closer to him than ever before. If he’d reached for me, I would have gone to him eagerly, trial or no trial. I wasn’t that strong. Sleeping next to him had left me wanting more.

My challenge to Ty had been to try to soothe his conscience. Ty had been honorable to a fault, but was it due to the trial or something more? My inner critic couldn’t help but see doubts instead of progress. Would our momentum slow such that we stopped altogether? Had he realized that I was still the loud-mouthed girl with the overabundance of energy inside, maybe not a woman he wanted to be with? It all boiled down to one thing: did he want me enough?

Echoes of his past rejection still slipped down my spine, chilling me. Maybe my memories were faulty, clouded by time, but I couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes, so cold, as he asked if he could call me a cab. As an adult woman, I could call my own damn car. And I could take someone home with me if I wanted. At the time, I’d wantedhim.

But I didn’t want a one-sided relationship. Been there, done that. I deserved someone who cared about me enough to put me first, at least some of the time. Pragmatism demanded it couldn’t be all the time. I couldn’t even make that commitment.

Pushing my misgivings aside, I finished washing my hair, then dried and dressed for the day. Hopefully, for mylastday of jury duty.

Randy Shepherd had young and dumb on lock, but I wasn’t convinced his crimes were enough to jeopardize his future. He’d made bad choices, but didn’t we all? The difference between him and Jimmy, was Jimmy hadn’t ever been caught. He and his friends used to pull all kinds of pranks. Sports prank wars were practically legend. And something about this case felt off. The niggling doubt kept me from voting guilty on the charges right away. We were missing something, and I wanted to review the evidence presented to be sure of my decision. I couldn’t convict him until I was satisfied we had all the facts.

***

Shelly’s knowing smile as she handed me a copy of the financial documents we requested for review pricked my conscience. “Late night?”

“Hmm?” I tried to play innocent. Surely she hadn’t seen anything, didn’t know anything. Besides there wasn’t much to tell. Sleeping next to Ty wouldn’t change my mind on the case.

“Hope you had sweet dreams of that charmer, over there. Are you ready for this to be over?”

She must have sensed some of my reluctance in my nod, because her eyes narrowed. “Worried about returning to real life? That your prince will turn into a frog in the light of everyday life?”

Not exactly, but she wasn’t far off either. “Everyone’s a little bit frog. I’ve known Ty long enough to confirm he’s the real deal.”

“Then what’s the problem? I figured you’d be thrilled to have the freedom to boink your tiny brains out.”

I choked on a laugh. But the sentiment did match her T-shirt. It was a wonder that Ramon hadn’t made her change. Today’s offering had a glittery unicorn and said,always horny.

Shelly passed around Randy Shepherd’s bank and credit card statements for a second review. The defense had highlighted them in court, but we hadn’t examined them in-depth. The weakest part of the prosecution’s argument was that they couldn’t explain how Shepherd, who worked as a rideshare driver and lived at home, could afford to pull such elaborate—and expensive— pranks on Alex Hernandez. Sam used the whiteboard, penciling out the hot dog caper.

“At six inches in length and maybe an inch in width, spread over a pool that measured thirty feet by forty feet, enough hot dogs to get the coverage shown in the crime photos is roughly two thousand hot dogs.”

“Maybe more,” I added.

“That means the cost of the hot dog prank alone penciled to over a thousand dollars. Too much for someone with limited income and almost no assets,” Pradeep murmured.

Scanning the credit card and bank statements, Randy spent small amounts on pizza and groceries, but nothing of the magnitude needed to fund his hot dog caper. No large cash withdrawals either. And what about the costume? The quality of the reindeer head in the videos hadn’t been cheap. His income from the videos hadn’t been enough to fund him. Where had Randy gotten the money? The defense had hammered home the inconsistency, and I couldn’t help but agree.

“Shelly, where do you think Randy got the cash to fund his pranks?” I asked. “Do we have finances for anyone else involved? Have we reviewed everything provided by the defense and prosecution? Does Randy have ties to the area sports teams we don’t know about?”

“I can ask Ramon, but that’s a fair question.”

“What if this is about more than a crazed fan?” I asked. “I don’t buy the prosecution’s motive. They didn’t demonstrate any real evidence that Shepherd’s personality would lead him to these lengths.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mary grumped from down the table. “Shepherd is still guilty.”

Ty’s nod of assent made my stomach sink. Did he believe in Shepherd’s guilt?

“But what if he’s a front? A fall guy?” Sam asked.

The possibility pricked my sense of justice and ignited my fighting instincts. Shepherd seemed like the type who would be easy to manipulate, while letting him believe he was the mastermind. True, it appeared he’d carried out the pranks, but what if someone else was pulling his strings? Convicting Shepherd when we didn’t know the whole story didn’t sit right.

“I never believed he had the brains for this. A mastermind, he is not,” Sam opined.

“But what if someone else is?” I asked.

“Who?” Ty asked. “We don’t have any evidence to support your theory.”

The implied criticism stung.